who should I tell him is here to see him?” His nametag said Cooper.
She forced a smile. “He’s expecting me — Officer Kala Stonechild. I’m reporting for duty.”
Cooper lifted a clipboard and ran a finger down the list of names. “Here you are. Stonechild.” He looked at her directly for the first time. “I’ll just call Sergeant Rouleau to come get you. Have a seat if you like.”
“Thanks, I’ll stand.”
“Suit yourself.”
Ten minutes ticked by before a man in a grey suit walked toward her. He looked to be early fifties, but it was hard to tell because of his shaved head and lean body. Up close, his eyes were a startling green with tiny laugh lines etched into his skin.
“Sergeant Rouleau,” he said, extending a hand. “Welcome Officer Stonechild. How was the trip down?” They started walking toward his office. His voice had the faintest trace of a French accent that she wouldn’t have detected unless she’d been listening for it.
“There was a snowstorm outside Sudbury and I had to spend an extra day waiting it out. Other than that, the trip was uneventful.”
Rouleau glanced sideways at her. “Did you find a place to stay in Ottawa?”
She nodded. She hadn’t yet, but it wouldn’t take much to find one.
They passed a room with several desks and officers talking on the phone and then turned right into another room. It was a little more cramped with six desks and a closed office directly ahead. The fluorescent lighting hurt her tired eyes. Three men stood next to a coffee machine, each one holding a full mug. They stopped talking and turned in unison when she and Rouleau walked in. Kala met their stares square on. An East Indian with darker skin than hers, a red-headed stocky Irishman, and a sandy-haired looker with brown eyes and wavy hair. She hoped he wouldn’t be her partner. All four men stood close to six feet tall; she’d be the short one on the team at five seven.
Rouleau made introductions and each shook her hand. Sandeep Malik, Clarence Whelan, and Philip Grayson. “Whelan will show you around. You two will be working together.”
The heavy-set, red-headed man gave her a nod. She was happy to see the wedding ring on his left hand. He had the look of a well-fed man happy with his lot. No complications. That’s all she wanted in a partner. No suggestive looks or subtle innuendos. No avoiding late-night drinks and pretending his hand on her leg wasn’t an invitation. She looked past him to the good-looking one, who by process of elimination had to be Grayson. He’d looked her over when she first came in, but now he was deep in conversation with Sandeep Malik. She turned to Whelan and held out her hand. He didn’t hesitate and reached out his own. His grip was warm and strong.
“Good to have you on board, Kala.”
“Thanks. Good to be here.”
Rouleau was heading to his office. “Take Stonechild with you on that assault call. When you get back, she can get her paperwork over with.” He said it without turning and continued walking without waiting for a response.
“Nothing like jumping right in,” said Whelan. “Your desk is there, facing mine. Sorry you won’t get a chance to warm the chair.”
“Lots of time for that.”
“Have you got a gun?” he asked. “Not that we’re going to need it on this call.”
She patted her jacket. “Side arm. Don’t worry. I’ve got the carrying permit.” They started walking toward the door and out of the building. “It’s nice not having to wear a uniform.”
They reached a black four-door Chevy and he motioned for her to get in the passenger side. “Good thing we have indoor parking,” he said, starting the engine and turning the heater up high, “because it’s as cold as a witch’s tit out there.”
Cold air blasted into their faces. He backed the unmarked car out of his space and turned it to face the exit. They merged with the traffic onto Elgin and kept going south to the Queensway on-ramp heading west. He cut across two lanes to the show-off lane.
Whelan glanced at her after they passed the Bronson exit. “There’s some perv in the west end who gets into apartment buildings and jumps women in the lobby. He likes to grab them from behind and fondles them through their clothes. Then he gives them a shove into the wall and runs off.”
“Lovely. How many times has he done it?”
“Five so far. This latest woman called it in twenty minutes before you arrived. She’s in her apartment and shaken up but says she’s not hurt. None of the women has given us a great description of the guy and we’re hoping this time we get more to go on.”
“Is he escalating?”
“Rouleau’s worried enough that he wants this nipped in the bud, so to speak.” Whelan flashed a smile. “Welcome to the big bad city. Our investigations unit is an offshoot of Major Crimes. It was formed to prevent crime from happening and to take over tricky homicide and major crime cases after a certain time period from Major Crimes. We’re the latest trial balloon. If we end up proving good value, we could be the way of the future, that is, if we get the chance to show our stuff.”
“Some would say policing needs to start thinking outside the box.”
“Or it just comes down to resources. Hard to keep a handle on crime if there aren’t enough cops on the street. So what brings you to Ottawa anyway?”
“Just wanted a change.”
“You were with the OPP up north?”
“Yeah. Out of Red Rock. Before that, I worked a reserve in the far North. When this job came up, I thought it would be a chance to try city policing.” It was the story she’d decided on as she drove south. It was as good as any.
Whelan glanced at her. “Where you staying?”
“Not sure yet. I thought I’d bunk at the Y until I have a chance to look at apartments.”
“I’d take you home but we have a one-month old with colic. You’ll thank me later for not offering.”
“That’s okay. Your first?”
“Second. Harry’s three and gotten wild since baby Logan showed up. Meghan is sending me for a vasectomy as soon as she can get me into a clinic. Either that, or separate bedrooms.”
“More information than I need,” said Kala. “Really.” She pretended to cover her ears.
Whelan laughed. “We’re going to be spending a lot of time and I like to lay my cards on the table.”
“Well that makes one of us.” Kala smiled but she kept her eyes straight ahead. Traffic was light and they’d crossed the city in no time. Whelan eased the car across the lanes to the Woodroffe off-ramp.
Rouleau filled his coffee cup for the third time that morning and wandered over to look at the photos of murder victims posted on the wall in their meeting area: a homeless man, two gang members, and a cab driver. They’d been handed the cases from homicide after his team formed – newly cold cases with little to go on. He wasn’t convinced
